


no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

by sungyeowl



Series: lost in today and the past; lost in the future we had [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: I don't know how this happened, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, also sappy, amor!thomas, kinda angsty, mundane!newt, the parts of the series are meant to be read separately!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:04:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>Thomas has always thought love was something great – whether platonic or romantic, parental or friendly, or a child’s love for a puppy, or when someone loved their job or their hobby. It didn’t matter, really – love was great and Thomas was always so, so enthralled by the pure concept of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

**Author's Note:**

> a tumblr prompt asked [here](http://annatries.tumblr.com/post/110811328399/16-and-39-with-newtmas-please) : D  
> 6\. broken wings and 39. secret admirer,  
> enjoy!

Thomas has always thought love was something great – whether platonioc or romantic, parental or friendly, or a child’s love for a puppy, or when someone loved their job or their hobby. It didn’t matter, really – love was great and Thomas was always so, so enthralled by the pure concept of it.

It didn’t matter that he was one supposed to never experience it for himself – he was an entity intended to find and link people destined for each other, he was the one to give them a push to make them fall in love. That was his making,  _the love_ , and that was enough.

But he couldn’t help himself sometimes – he would just fly down to Earth, invisible but still corporeal (a thing he never questioned, too), without any amor-matchmaking scheduled to be done, just to look. And look he did – he observed people, in love, on dates, meeting their family – and it was enough and yet not even close to, because there would always be this gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, pulling and urging and making him want to experience it himself. Thomas tried to ignore it, because they – amors, cupids, matchmakers, whatever mundanes called them – were never supposed to feel it. But it was there, and Thomas liked to embrace it – just sometimes, and secretly, so no one beside him knew.

And it was during one of his aimless roams around the city when Thomas spotted him – the blonde, tall boy (man?) who volunteered in one of the animal shelters, and who just looked so – captivating. There was something about the way he held himself – straightened back but relaxed, the way one of his eyes squinted when he laughed, the way he would flip his fringe back. There was just something about him that made Thomas go back up to his quarters and look him up – and he found him, and his name was Newt and- and he was never destined to find his perfect match. He was one of those people to never experience true love, Thomas found out – and it broke his heart a little ( _if_  Thomas had a heart. He wasn’t sure if he did, but he imagined it would feel something like that – bottomless and helpless, despair).

Thomas would follow Newt from now on from time to time – just to look at him a bit, take a few glimpses at his life, at his friends. And Newt was just – he was so good, and Thomas couldn’t believe there was no-one perfect for the man.

And so Thomas broke the rules.

He did and he was so terrified at first – he left a cup of coffee on the table in the library when Newt went looking for a book (and it was dangerous in itself, rules or not, being invisible and trying to sneak a cup of coffee) with a note saying not to overwork himself. And Newt looked so adorably confused but then also happy and nervous that Thomas couldn’t stop.

He would sneak him coffee or donut holes from time to time, or leave the notes under his apartment door, or a card when there was this mundane holiday in February. And Newt would smile and laugh and wonder and Thomas would feel warm and weirdly fuzzy and he wouldn’t stop thinking about the blonde guy even when he was doing his job.

And it was dangerous, but also so, so nice and pleasing. Thomas was extra careful not to be discovered by his bosses, and it was going smoothly.

Until one day Thomas has been lurking in the café where Newt met with that Asian friend of his.

“You should just creep around and discover who this person is,” the friend advises. And Newt lookes weirdly upset, he fiddles with his hands and doesn’t look up and something in Thomas’ chest clenches.

“Yeah, ‘m not sure.”

“Newt. They’ve been acting like that for half a year now – don’t you think it’s shucking time for that secret admirer to reveal themselves finally?”

“And how am I supposed to make ‘em do that, hm, Minho?” Newt snaps and it’s the first time Thomas has seen him acting like that. “I don’t know who they are! And I just-“

“You fell for that person, didn’t you,” Minho states in a small voice, reaching out to grasp at Newt’s shoulder, making the blonde flinch back. Thomas’ eyes widen in horror.

“I might have,” Newt mumbles, than hides is face in his hands. “I just. It doesn’t happen to me, Min. And then it did and they won’t reveal themselves and I’m starting to think it’s a joke. A fucking joke, and cruel at that.”

Minho replies but Thomas doesn’t hear what exactly – he bolts out of the café, not caring that he opens the door and shuts them when people can’t see him. And he runs and flies and just – flees, because that wasn’t supposed to happen.

It’s bad, it’s really bad and he messed up and made the blonde miserable – and that wasn’t supposed to be like that. But time is different for him, he doesn’t feel it the way humans do – he had no idea it was going like that for so long.

He’s shaking at the mere thought of breaking this – he can’t do it, not really, but he has to – otherwise Newt will be miserable and unhappy, never being able to meet his secret admirer, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

Thomas is shaken and terrified and he doesn’t comprehend he’s running across a busy street.

He’s invisible but not immaterial and he doesn’t realise that until he feels sharp pain in his back, pain that knocks him over and everything’s swallowed by darkness.

Everything after that is a haze, incoherent and unclear.

There’s pain and voices and ages after Thomas wakes up to find himself up in his quarters. Someone comes in, his supervisor, and starts telling Thomas – horrible, horrible things. His left wing is shattered and his right one is too weak. And he can no more do what he did.

He’s sent to Earth, corporeal but visible. Before he knows it  _he’s made human_  – he’s granted an identity and an apartment full of equipment he doesn’t know how to use, a new knowledge (“To help you find a job,” his supervisor said) and a total mess in his mind.

The first days are a blur – Thomas doesn’t know how to function as a real person, he’s not used to eating or to walking on foot all the time. He’s miserable and lost and heartbroken – this time for real, because this time, he  _has a heart_  to be broken, a real one. His memories are fading, making him even more confused – Thomas won’t lose them completely, of course, but the less he knows the better.

And he wanders, one day, not really knowing what to do or where to go – he doesn’t know anything. But then Thomas sees a flash of familiar, fair hair, and he recognizes the building – the library, and it all comes back to him so fast that he wobbles on his feet.

There’s no time to consider it when Thomas makes his way to the nearest café and orders a coffee, using his mundane voice for the first time, spending the last of his money on it, then sprints to the library as fast as he can.

And he’s there – bent over a book, scribbling leisurely in a notebook.

“Newt,” Thomas says out loud, his voice hoarse thanks to the days of not speaking to anyone, as he stops by the blonde’s table.

Newt looks up, confused and a little bit startled. His eyes widen at first, but then they lock on the cardboard cup in Thomas’ hand and a shade of recognition crosses his face.

“Oh my god,” Newt sighs, standing up quickly and getting closer to Thomas.

“Hi,” Thomas says, a swirl of weird emotions overpowering him as he thrusts the cup into Newt’s hands.

“It’s you, isn’t it,” Newt says in a daze, putting the drink aside and staring at Thomas.

“Yes,” Thomas nods only.

Newt hugs him, tightly, and Thomas had no idea it felt like that,

_the love_

– that warm and familiar and uplifting and so, so, so good. Newt doesn’t feel them nor see them – but Thomas notices that his broken wings don’t weigh on his shoulders anymore, and the pain is bearable and seems to be dissolving with every second and every ‘thank you’ and ‘finally’ that moves past Newt’s lips.


End file.
